“Armstrong,” said Walker. “Billy Armstrong.”
“And has he spoken to you of Crimson Mary?”
“Aye.”
“Is this him?” Giles said, taking the ballad sheet from his pocket. “This fellow in the women’s clothing, with the hook nose?”
“The Duke’s nose,” said Walker. “Aye, that’s him.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Seven month or so. He’s been in America. My gran reckons he has a wife in New York who thinks he’s dead. Billy gave my gran a silver dollar. Said he wanted to help her properly this time. That he owed us, which he did.”
“And what about Amy Roper?”
“She’s his mistress. Anyway, she comes to see Granny to get her messages from him. Her father didn’t like Billy and Billy didn’t like him.”
“I heard that at one time they were friends and that was how your grandmother came to work for the Ropers.”
“Maybe so, but Roper was no friend to Billy. He told me so.”
“Did he say why?” Walker shook his head.
“You discussed Mr Roper’s death with him?”
“No, sir.”
“Let us go back to this plan to break the machines at Williamson and Collworth. Are you to act alone?”
“That I don’t know, sir.”
“But he has given you orders of some kind?”
“Yes, but there will be more in time.”
“Is there a date set for this?”
“Yes, Christmas Eve.”
~
“Christmas Eve? When half the town is awash with ale,” said Hammond, as they walked along the passageway.
“And as a result might be inclined to join in,” said Giles, “if sufficiently stirred up. It’s a bold plan.”
“You think he wants the town in flames, sir?”
“It is possible. Those are extreme ideas with which he has fed Walker. But at least we have a name now and a great deal more information to act upon. We shall certainly not allow Crimson Mary to have her way.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Just as he was about to leave for Hawksby late that afternoon, Felix received a note in Lady Maria’s hand asking him to call at Rooke Court. Mrs Vernon was not well.
He made his way there at once, and was surprised to find that the Major was not in attendance.
“She will not send for him,” Maria said when he mentioned this, as they went upstairs. “It has been a bother enough to get her to send for you.”
At the far end of the passageway, Sophy and Hamish Gordon were noisily belabouring each other with wooden swords.
“Oh, dear heavens!” exclaimed Maria at the sight of them. “In there,” she added, pointing to a door, and then went running down the passageway calling to the children, “Stop that at once, if you please!”
Felix knocked on the door, and it was opened by Mrs Patton, Mrs Vernon’s faithful maid.
“Good to see you, sir,” she said, and hurried him into the room, which was warm and rather dimly lit.
“Oh, Mr Carswell – this is kind of you,” Mrs Vernon said from the bed in a hoarse voice. She was sitting up, but had a basin on her lap.
“Could you open the curtains please, Patton?” said Felix, going at once to Mrs Vernon and reaching out to take her hand. “Please excuse my cold hands. What seems to be the trouble?”
“It’s nothing, really. This is an inconvenience for you. I just have an upset stomach.”
“She’s been throwing up her guts all day, sir,” said Mrs Patton with unashamed directness. “And her monthly is five days late.”
“Yes, thank you, Patton,” said Mrs Vernon.
“There is no point beating about the bush, ma’am, and I’m sure Mr Carswell will agree with me.”
With a little light, Felix could see that Mrs Vernon looked grey-faced and tired.
“Have you managed to eat at all?”
“I had a little broth, but – well, it did not stay down long.”
“Teaspoonfuls of tea?” he suggested. “It is important you take as much liquid as you can bear.”
“Green or black, sir?” said Patton.
“Either, whatever Mrs Vernon prefers. Perhaps you could fetch some for her now?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” said Patton. “And I will go and box those children’s ears.”
“They are quiet now,” said Mrs Vernon. “Do not, please, Patton. Just the tea will be sufficient.”
“The apple never falls far from the tree,” said Patton. “That is all I will say, ma’am.”
At which she left.
“So, what Mrs Patton said – you are late?”
“Yes, five days. And I am never late. And I am sore about here,” she said, laying her hand on her breast. “And so tired. As well as this,” she added, tapping the bowl. “This is how it has always been with me.”
“How many pregnancies have you had?”
“Five. Only one to term, though. The rest miscarried.”
“I am sorry to hear that, ma’am, that must have been very hard.”
“It is a long time ago now,” she said. “But it was, I cannot deny it. I often think of them, how they all might be if they had lived.”
“And you are naturally concerned it might happen again?”
“That and being an old mother. I know it’s not rational, but I have heard such stories –”
“You are not yet forty, ma’am, I think?”
“Yes, but –”
“I think in this case, the most important thing is for you to remain, as far as you can, calm and optimistic. There is a risk of miscarriage with such a history, but then again, circumstances can mitigate that. You are well looked after here, and can rest as much as you need.”
“I have three children to look after, Mr Carswell. That usually precludes rest.”
“Where is their mother?” said Felix.
“Have you not spoken to my husband?” she said.
“Not about this,” said Felix.
“She has run away, and Major Vernon, who cannot resist a lame puppy or a kitten about to be drowned, has decided that they are to be our charge. Which is of course right and proper, but if I am to be on my back for nine months – oh dear, that came out too strong. It is just that I feel utterly unequal to it, especially after today. If Maria had not been here, then – and the littlest one, Sandro, he will not stop crying for his mama. He knows something is amiss and we cannot comfort him.”
“I am sure he will settle,” said Felix. “You know my own history, I think?” She nodded. “Now, when you were carrying your son,” he went on, “can you remember how long the nausea lasted?”
“It was a week or so, but it did pass.”
“Then you will stay in your bed and rest, and let your faithful Patton do everything for you. As for the children, how long is Maria with you?”
“It has not been decided.”
“I think she and Mrs Fforde can manage between them – not to mention Celia. I assume you have a nurse for them as well?” She nodded. “And if it becomes difficult then perhaps you could send them to us at Hawksby. Eleanor has a pet fox now, and she is probably quite handy with a wooden sword.”
Mrs Vernon smiled and laid her hand over his.
“That all sounds plausible.”
“Good.”
Patton came in with the tea, and Felix watched as she took a few tepid teaspoonfuls.
“You might also suck barley sugar,” he said. “Or peppermint drops. Whatever you prefer.”
“I will send Mr Holt out to get some at once,” said Mrs Patton. “And the Major is home now, ma’am. Will you see him?”
“Yes, yes, of course!”
A few moments later Major Vernon came in, but he was not alone. He was carrying a child of about eighteen months. His head was on Major Vernon’s shoulder and he was sucking earnestly on his thumb.
“He has stopped crying!” said Mrs Vernon. “Ye Gods!”
“He did the
moment I picked him up,” said Major Vernon.
“Do not put him down,” she said. “He may even fall asleep.”
“This is Sandro,” Major Vernon said to Carswell.
“Mr Carswell says I am not to leave my bed for a week,” Mrs Vernon said.
“At least a week,” said Felix.
“That sounds sensible,” said Major Vernon. “And I am glad you decided to send for him.”
“I have to admit that was Maria’s doing,” she said. “I did not want to bother either of you. I know you both have a great deal in hand. How is Inspector Coxe, by the way?”
“I examined him this afternoon and he is doing well,” said Felix.
“Yes, and I have a name for his assailant,” said Major Vernon. “Billy Armstrong, and he is planning more mayhem. All we have to do now is find him.”
“That won’t be easy,” said Felix.
“There are ways and means,” said Major Vernon. “And we have good leads, at last! Yes, Sandro, something to rejoice about!” he added, kissing the child on his forehead. “And if he is found by Christmas, I shall get you a wooden horse to ride about on.”
“I had better get home,” said Felix. “I will look in on you tomorrow, ma’am. I hope you have a more settled night.”
“I am feeling better already,” she smiled. “Yes, go home to your own hearth, Mr Carswell!”
~
Eleanor was not at home, but he hardly expected her to be. He found Lady Blanchfort in the library, the household accounts spread out in front her.
“She is at White Lodge,” said Lady Blanchfort.
“You weren’t needed?” Felix said.
“No, I have only two scenes, thankfully. So I have had the chance to look at all this.”
“I hope I have not spent too much money.”
“No, not at all. Eleanor, on the other hand – it is not that she has exceeded her income, it is simply that she has no notion of what money means. But that is hardly her fault. Her circumstances have made it so.”
“She has been at White Lodge all afternoon?” Felix said, sitting down by the fire.
“Yes,” said Lady Blanchfort.
“I don’t think she should go there alone.”
“Why do you say that?” said Lady Blanchfort.
“Because – well, it is simply that I saw something the other night that I did not care for.”
“On Sunday? What was it? I sensed you were agitated about something.”
She came and sat down opposite him, and as she did, he felt the full allure of her presence. He tried to focus on her expression, which was both wise and sympathetic.
“It was – I don’t know what we should do about it, to be honest. It was troubling.”
“What did you see?” she said, leaning forward.
“It was Truro and Miss Fleming. They were –” He searched for a suitable euphemism. “They are lovers.”
“You are sure?”
“It was perfectly clear. Far more than flirtation. It was actual congress – excuse me.”
He found himself looking at his hands.
“Truro is free with himself, then,” she said after a moment.
“He is a satyr, and I don’t want Eleanor...”
“Of course,” she said.
“It was directly after they had been talking so long,” he said. “He must have been thinking of her when he was with Miss Fleming. You know what men are like!” He managed to look her in the face now, but it was only for a moment, for he found himself looking down in shame again. “Some men, at least,” he added.
He heard her stir and sigh.
“That’s a serious business, certainly,” she said eventually. “I will of course go with her to all the rehearsals.”
“I am not afraid for Eleanor,” he said. “It is simply that I do not like such wretchedness. That he can be so unkind to his own wife, and so indiscreet! And what if you or Eleanor had walked in on that?”
She thought for a while and then said, “Passion makes fools out of us. After all, we cannot know what they are feeling or what has gone on in that household. Sometimes things happen which, no matter how hard we try, cannot be prevented. Giving in to temptation is sometimes inevitable. It is not excusable, of course. It ought not happen, but sometimes it does and then –” She looked into the fire. “Judge not lest you be judged,” she murmured. “I still wonder why he made such a point of mentioning Hal Blanchfort that evening. I still feel that he meant to provoke me with it. It was as if he knew.”
“How might he know?” Felix asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. There is always someone who knows something, who sees something or hears something. Just as you have done. There is no hiding our sins. Perhaps that is it.”
“I am sure he cannot know,” said Felix.
“I wish I had your confidence,” she said.
They sat in silence, and the fire spat and crackled, while Byron, Lady Blanchfort’s cat, stirred and rolled on his cushion nearby.
The moment may have seemed calm, but Felix was seized with violent emotion. The feelings he had for her were both inappropriate and dangerous. He wanted her as a woman and a lover, not as a trusted counsellor or his household guardian. He might have knelt then and taken her hands in his and kissed them, and told her that he adored her, that Truro’s dirty, backroom passion was nothing compared to what he felt for her. He was, in fact, on the verge of slipping from his seat when the door opened and a servant came in. It was a message from White Lodge for him. Mrs Truro had gone into labour.
~
“Oh, Felix, thank goodness you are here,” said Eleanor. “I think she is about to give birth on the sofa. She cannot get upstairs.”
“Where is her sister?” said Felix, glancing into the room and seeing Mrs Truro panting on the sofa, with a servant supporting her. She looked utterly miserable.
“I don’t know. She was here, as was Mr Truro, and then they weren’t,” said Eleanor.
“When did the contractions begin?” Felix said, coming into the room.
“This morning at five,” said Mrs Truro. “They were not strong, though. They only started coming so thick and fast when we sat down for tea.”
“May I examine you?”
“You may pull him out with forceps as quick as you like,” said Mrs Truro. “He is huge though, I am sure, and a great kicker! Oh my, oh my!”
She scrunched up her face and clasped his hand so fiercely that he thought she might break the bones. Such energy and strength would serve her well.
He sent the servant to fetch towels and water, and getting Eleanor to assist him, managed to make Mrs Truro a little more comfortable. She was in great pain and Felix had hopes that this meant that the child was well on the way and there would be a quick delivery. But when he came to examine her properly, he found the child to be in a most awkward position and the opening to the womb not yet well dilated.
“So?” she gasped, meeting his eye. She was sitting on the floor with her knees up, her back against the sofa.
“It may be tricky,” he said.
“I knew it. It has felt strange all day. Where is my husband?” she asked plaintively.
“I will go and find him,” said Eleanor.
Felix wished he could have gone on this errand himself, rather nervous about what she might run across.
The two servants returned with supplies, and they were able to get her a little more comfortable still, but there was no question of getting her up from the floor. Feeling her raging pulse and observing her laboured breathing, Felix began to consider his options. In the first instance, he would attempt to turn the child and hope that a normal head-first delivery could be accomplished. Failing that, he might have to resort to a caesarian, a procedure he had only ever performed once, and which he was loath to try again.
The door opened and Eleanor came in.
“I cannot find him,” she said. “Nor Miss Fleming.”
One of the maids said, in an embarrassed whi
sper, “They may be upstairs, ma’am. In the back attic.”
Mrs Truro heard this perfectly and screwed up her face.
Felix said, “Now, Mrs Truro, we shall have this fine lad out before you know it. I think he will be a beauty. Can you go and find your master, er –?”
“Sarah, sir.”
“Go and find him, Sarah.”
“Yesss!” said Mrs Truro, with a howl. She was riding a contraction as she spoke. “Go and fetch the wretch!”
“But ma’am –”
“Just go!” she said, imperiously. “For the Lord’s sake!” And then she let out a piercing scream.
Felix examined her again. A foot was now protruding. It was too late to turn the child. All that he could do was assist the natural passage of the infant, making sure that nothing got caught and tangled in his unconventional descent into the world.
He was already in his shirtsleeves, so he pulled off his shirt and slicked up his hands and forearms with olive oil, and said, “Now, ma’am, when the next contraction comes, you can push, if you can?”
“Oh, I certainly can,” said Mrs Truro, panting.
It was not long coming, and nor was the child, who came out smoothly after all, resting on Felix’s right arm, and with a serene expression. He was large and well-formed, with a mop of dark hair. A gentle tap on the cheek set him crying.
“Let me have him,” Mrs Truro said, and leant forward to gather him into her arms. “Oh, you are a darling, a perfect handsome darling.” She glanced up at Felix and smiled. “Thank you!”
At this moment the door opened and Truro entered. He looked red-cheeked and his pale hair was disordered. He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene, and then, as if assuming a role on stage, he went towards his wife, and began to bend towards her and the child, but she leant away, and then as he persisted, like a protective lioness flung out her hand to restrain him.
“Bess –” he began, but she shook her head and gave all her attention to the baby.
“I’ll come back later,” he said, and left the room again.
~
It was another two hours before Felix got home. He had sent Eleanor back shortly after Truro’s dramatic appearance, and she had gone willingly. It was clear that the entire scene had shaken her, and he did not think that she would have been able to cope with the cutting of the cord, let alone the delivery of the placenta. With the help of the maids he was able to get Mrs Truro upstairs and into bed. The child had begun to nurse contentedly and she was certain all would be well. It was fortunate she felt so happy, for neither Truro nor her sister appeared again to offer assistance, let alone congratulations. Mother and son had each other and that would have to suffice for now. What the morning would bring under that roof he did not like to imagine.
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